


Down the Rabbit Hole

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton), Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood and Violence, Cheshire Cat - Freeform, F/F, also mirana has a crisis or two, and significantly more banshees, in which there is a lot more gay than in the original, there's a lot of colour metaphors, underland as a whole makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: When Alice comes to Underland, a little girl in a blue dress, with big eyes and wild curls, Iracebeth is drenched in red. Her hair is tamed and bound, her voice loud and shrill. Off with her head, she says, her eyes dry, her hands shaking, and all of Underland cowers as Alice stares at the Cards and their spears.Mirana, her hair white silk, her mouth black tar, her voice a careful whisper, knows nothing of Alice and her reckless voice until there are no English girls roaming Underland anymore, until the Cheshire Cat comes to her, his grin splitting his face in two, his body nothing but a cloud of smoke.





	Down the Rabbit Hole

 

 

> _Royalty of Underland_  
>  _And all that you govern_  
>  _Beware of your voice_  
>  _Beware of your tears_  
>  _Beware of all that you see_  
>  _Spilling on the ground_  
>  _In blood red dread_
> 
> _Royalty of Underland_  
>  _Beware of the blood_  
>  _In your veins_  
>  _And in your shriek_  
>  _Beware of the wailing_  
>  _Beware of your grief_
> 
> _\- ‘tis a banshee that rules us, pitch-black lips and snow-white hair_

*

The Princess Iracebeth is born with hair as red as rose hips, and she does not cry. When the midwife lifts her into the Queen’s arms, the little Princess grasps for her mother’s hair, white as the pillows beneath them. “Welcome to Underland”, she says and Iracebeth looks at her with wide, dark eyes.

The Princess is born, says Underland, their mouths in thin lines, their coats billowing, their feet heavy in the fresh snow, and her hair is red. The Princess is born, say the hatters, their fingers shivering, and she did not cry. The Princess is born, says Time and opens the watch, his eyes flickering, and who she is only I can tell.

Iracebeth’s hair doesn’t lighten or bleach into a blossoming pink the colour of the Queen’s cherry trees. Instead, the Princess stays red haired and dark eyed and quiet until the day the Princess Mirana is born, with a voice too loud and too big for her small body. Mirana’s hair is even lighter than the Queen’s, her scream window shattering and bone crushing and the King lets out a breath in his study when he feels his throat tighten at the sound of Mirana’s wailing upon being put into this world.

Iracebeth, two years old and ever smiling, frowns, her hair open and knotted. “Doll”, she says and pokes Mirana’s cheek. The Queen smiles, her hands trembling against Mirana’s body, her breath shaking, and kisses Iracebeth’s forehead. “No”, she says, her voice a whisper against Iracebeth’s skin. “Sister.”

The Queen has blessed us with a Princess, says Underland, frothing at the mouth, their arms linked, their bare feet on the warm forest soil, and her hair will surely be fresh snow, one day. The Queen has blessed us with a princess, say the Cards as they sharpen their weapons, and her voice is a sublime thing to behold. The Queen has given another Princess to her Underlings, says Time and Wilkens straightens next to him, the clock in Time’s chest ever-ticking, and she is all they want.

*

When Alice comes to Underland, a little girl in a blue dress, with big eyes and wild curls, Iracebeth is drenched in red. Her hair is tamed and bound, her voice loud and shrill. Off with her head, she says, her eyes dry, her hands shaking, and all of Underland cowers as Alice stares at the Cards and their spears.

Mirana, her hair white silk, her mouth black tar, her voice a careful whisper, knows nothing of Alice and her reckless voice until there are no English girls roaming Underland anymore, until the Cheshire Cat comes to her, his grin splitting his face in two, his body nothing but a cloud of smoke. Alice faced the Red Queen, he says, and lived to tell the tale. Mirana thinks of her brother in law, his crooked grin, thinks of Underland and the last time she has seen a spring festival. Tell me, she says and runs her hands through the Cat’s fur, his purr loud against her skin. Tell me of Alice.

Alice is curious, is loud and impatient and calls their Underland Wonderland, gapes at the flowers and the people and their language. Alice is human and looked at Iracebeth and her red stained court, called her cruel and impossible and foolish as she shrunk and shrunk, her hair is a tumble of yellow curls. Cheshire wraps his tail around Mirana’s wrist as he says this and Mirana can feel her heart drop to the floor.

Alice is a child.

*

When Mirana is seven years old, her lips darkening with her every sob, she looks at the Queen and sees nothing but red gushing from her throat, staining the baby pink lace and the ivory coloured silk first red, then brown. Her mother’s eyes are a glassy blue under all that spilled from her and Mirana can feel her tears hot on her cheeks, her heaving breaths on her tongue and the King’s voice in her hair as he kisses her forehead and talks to her of dancing and dresses and celebrations.

Mirana doesn’t stop crying until the Queen dies, her hands pressed against her throat, her teeth stained red. The Queen was poisoned, says Underland, their voices nothing but a whisper, their clothes white as the dead. You cannot cry, says the King and grasps at Mirana’s arms. Don’t ever cry again. He kisses her forehead and wipes her tears away with his thumbs. Terrible things happen when Royalty cries. Mirana nods, her cheeks aching, her throat burning. Iracebeth next to her stares at their mother’s hands, her lips trembling.

When she cries, her skin blotched red, nothing happens.

*

Alice returns to Underland much older, much paler and much quieter than what Mirana expected. She is taller than she should be, clad in Iracebeth’s red, her mouth a thin line, her hair a tumbled mess. Too much Upelkuchen, she says and Mirana hums. Of course.

Alice returns to Underland a girl turned woman, wonder still breathing in her very bones, her eyes on Mirana’s hands as she mixes the potion, her lips fitted around question after question and Mirana looks at her, her big eyes and her yellow hair and all this red against her skin.

Alice returns to Underland and calls it a dream as she looks at Mirana and calls her Queen, calls this Underland Wonderland, calls Mirana and all that she governs impossible. Her yellow hair lies on her shoulders and Mirana wonders if it is still a tumble of knots, if she could untangle it with just her fingers. Instead, she smiles and tries to count all the freckles on Alice’s cheeks, on her shoulders, on her hands.

Why don’t you slay the Jabberwocky yourself, Alice asks and her back is curved, suddenly, her voice a shaking whisper. You must have the power. Mirana smiles and thinks of the Queen, thinks of her father and the tar on his hands, thinks of all that rots in Iracebeth’s waters and all the red she can see on her family’s skin.

It is against my vows to harm any living creature, she says, and Alice cocks her head. Her mouth is curved, now, her lips a soft rosé even in the moonlight and Mirana thinks of her own black lips and the stain they would leave on Alice’s skin.

*

The King dies when the Princess Iracebeth is nineteen years old and the Princess Mirana’s hair is tinted pink, still. Her throat is raw, her vision blurred and she feels as if there was something sitting in her rib cage, tying her to a bundle of bones. Mirana, says father, and reaches for her hands, you mustn’t yell. Mirana takes a step back, can feel her voice breaking and as the glass window behind her shatters, suddenly all she can see is her father spilling himself at her feet, Iracebeth’s red tumbling from his stomach. The shards drop at her feet, the glass tinted black and Mirana feels all her rage settle into her bones.

The King dies that very afternoon and Mirana is crowned Queen, her dress and hair white against her lips as black as ink. Iracebeth stands beside her, her skin tinted red, her hair a heart. Mirana stares at the sceptre, stares at her sister too, and thinks of her voice and all its blast.

*

Alice, for all that her voice and knees tremble and Mirana can hear her heart beating frantically against her chest, puts on the armour, leaves her hair open and yellow on her shoulders, her back. Mirana helps her put on the chainmail with trembling fingers and Alice smiles at her, then, her dark eyes warm, her freckles so close Mirana thinks she really could count them all, now.

When they’ve finished and Mirana hands Alice the Vorpal sword and the shield, Alice looks like something out of a painting, her back straight, her hair curling at the iron of her breast plate and Mirana’s world shrinks to a point as Alice smiles at her, her cheeks a faint pink, the dark circles under her eyes gone, her eyes dark. Her dress feels heavy against her skin, her underskirts brushing against her legs, her corset pressing against her ribs and it is only when the Cheshire Cat curls around her neck that she lets out a shaking breath and thinks of Iracebeth again.

Iracebeth and all that Underland fears, Iracebeth and the Heart Knave, the Cards, Iracebeth and the Jabberwocky, Iracebeth and the red all over her, Iracebeth and her screaming rage, Iracebeth, colourful and small and towering over all that she loves.

*

The day Iracebeth becomes the Red Queen, Mirana’s skin has lightened to the colour of snow, resting paper thin on her bones, and the wail in her throat is stronger than it’s ever been. Mirana smiles and claps and ties her voice and her sob tightly to her ribs and tries not to see the fire licking at Underland and all who dance around her. Racie, she thinks, and watches as the Hightopps dance and burn and laugh and scream all at the same time. Racie, Racie, Racie.

The Jabberwocky burns half of Underland to a crisp, its voice a mocking laugh as the fire cracks and burns underneath it, Iracebeth perching on its leg. Mirana doesn’t cry. Mirana doesn’t scream.

And still, her people die in a pool of red on Horunvendush Day.

*

Alice slays the Jabberwocky and its mocking voice, its claws against her yellow hair and Mirana looks at Iracebeth, whose mouth is a frothing sneer, her hand trembling as she screams for someone to take Alice’s head, her eyes large, her skin tinted red. Mirana thinks of the sister she grew up with and her hair like roses and sees nothing but red, sees nothing but trembling rage. The Cards drop their weapons as Alice walks towards them, her back straight, her mouth curved into a smile.

Mirana takes her hand and kisses it, watches as her lips like tar stain Alice’s freckled skin. Thank you, she says and Alice laughs, her voice a reckless tumble from her lips again and Mirana feels as if she might drown in it.

She banishes Iracebeth, then, Iracebeth and her Heart Knave and all that they have done. Iracebeth spits at her and screams, but her eyes are dry and Mirana can see Racie in all this red spilling from her lips.

*

Alice doesn’t drink the poison on the battlefield, her armour drenched in the Jabberwocky’s blood, her chest heaving. Instead, she leans her head on Mirana’s shoulder as they watch the celebration, watch Underland cheer and bloom again. Mirana can feel her every breath, can feel Alice’s warmth against her skin. It is only when the moon has risen high above them that Mirana excuses herself and leads Alice back to her castle to wash off the grime and dirt of the battle field.

She helps Alice out of the armour and listens to her every sigh as she lifts it off her piece by piece until Alice stands in front of her in just the chainmail and the linen undershirt and Mirana feels as if the floor is shifting underneath her. She reaches for the chainmail with shivering hands and helps Alice out of it, her mouth so close to Alice’s neck that she can almost feel human skin under her lips. Mirana drops the chainmail to the floor, the sound of it a clatter in her ears and Alice smiles at her, with her soft pink lips and her dark eyes and her voice stubborn in her throat.

Mirana kisses that smile and Alice puts her arm around her, one warm against her waist, the other grasping at her hair.

*

When Alice drinks the Jabberwocky poison and goes back home, into the world called England, her lips and skin are stained, her hair a mass of wild locks and Mirana can still feel her touch, can still see her white mixed with Alice’s yellow.

Alice returns to her world smiling, bearing the marks of a Queen and the memories of a world called Underland, and she climbs out of the rabbit hole to decline the proposal of a Lord.


End file.
